It’s too cold, even for me, so you can imagine that Shane wants no part of the frigid world beyond the front door. He’s much relieved to stretch out on his flowery bed and dream about springtime—a time when the rabbits are eager to be chased, when the ground begs to be dug up, when butterflies chase dogs around the azalea bushes. It’s a time for long walks instead of a hurried buzz around the block with Joan going "brrrrrrrrrrrrr" the entire time. And, best of all, it's a time when night doesn’t cover the grass until dinner is long over. It’s a little unnatural the way it’s dark around here before the Oprah Show is over. I mean, isn’t it supposed to be a daytime show?
We’re kind of lucky to have bad days—freezing days, early nights, noise, rain, ice, and misery. Otherwise, life would be too much of a good thing, and then it would be too hard to figure out what was good and what was not so good. Let’s take tranquility, for example. You know, I can’t stand loud noises; but, if life were always quiet and easy, I wouldn’t appreciate the silence as much as I do. (Not really; I’m just trying to sound positive.)
When the days last two minutes and the nights go on for eons, I always say, “Relax, Juno; this too shall pass.” It’s an expression I picked up from the philosophers of long ago. The way Shane looks in the picture—deeply relaxed and looking quite comfy on his soft bed—I think he already knows about life’s fleeting travails.
Best wishes, Juno
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